In a Father's Arms
by WhiteRosesHaveBlackThorns
Summary: The rise of the Leviathan. The fall of the Doctor. Doctiel.
1. Too Good

The Doctor hustles him into the TARDIS, panicking, pallid and shaken to the bones, because Cas did it—he opened the doors to Purgatory, absorbed every monster they ever fought off together, pretended he was a god while the Doctor watched and chewed his nails to the quick. Cas made him promise not to interfere, without knowing the number one rule: the Doctor lies.

He lied so badly, as soon as the Winchesters fell to their knees, he gave them a harried apology and wrapped your arms around Castiel, reminded him who he was and what the two of you had—_our girl, think of our girl, Aliana, think of how much she'd miss you—_and the Doctor ran like the soles of his shoes were aflame, like every bad thing hiding in the corners of the universe was chasing them, like he was a young man fleeing his oppressive home planet.

The Doctor seals the TARDIS doors in hopes of keeping the demons at bay, and jumps into the Time Vortex, telling the TARDIS she can go wherever she wants—Venus, Raxacoricofalipatorious, Gallifrey, anywhere but Earth. She obeys like she always (usually) does, and the Doctor thinks himself and his family safe. We're safe. Castiel is standing dazedly by the door, Aliana is running towards the console room right now, the little pitter-patter of her feet helping you breathe, and we're safe.

They're not safe.

The Doctor feels it before he sees it—slimy and chilled against his skin, eliciting causeless goosebumps, tickling the back of his neck and breathing heavily near his ear. He knows that sensation, that scent. _Leviathan. _He looks to Castiel in alarm—_How did one of them get in?_—and he sees Cas's frozen, expression carved by terror, staring at Aliana, who's just arrived and is crying, she's so happy to see her fathers home again.

Her face turns and suddenly she's up to her ankles in the goo the Doctor felt, the very goo that's bubbling out of Castiel's pant leg and making him unfurl his wings in instinctive self-defense. The Doctor breaks the tableau and runs towards her, almost slipping and catching himself on the console, but he's too late—

Her clothes are stained and her hair is drenched in sweat and she's bursting at the seams with black, eyes still Castiel's blue but skin marred with obsidian veins. Cracks are forming in her skin and blood's leaking through, trying to escape. She's going to burst, and you know it—your daughter is going to burst and all at Doctor can do is clutch at her shoulders and shake her, yell at her.

"No! _No_! This wasn't supposed to happen!" They're both crying now, the Doctor and her, and she's staring up at him, as terrified as he is, soundlessly asking for help.

He feels it before you see it—Castiel's wings brushing his back, pulling the Doctor away as Aliana goes blank, and then erupts into a jagged grin. She's not her anymore. She's gone.

"This vessel's so small, I feel like I've eaten a planet. Of course, you know how that feels, don't you, Castiel?" She's gone, but her voice still resounds around the room, tinny and stretched thin.

Castiel steps forward and he's quivering with power, wings twitching and sharpening before the Doctor's horrified eyes. He runs towards him—running, running, always running, too cowardly to save his family—and Castiel slams him back into the wall with strength borrowed from monsters, turns his head for a moment to meet the Doctor's eyes, and he knows what he's going to do.

"No, no, no, Cas, no—"

"Do you want her to die?" Castiel barks it at him, and the Doctor almost doesn't recognize him under the shroud of anger, eyes crazed and mouth set in determination.

"Are you going to exorcise me again? Oh, but you set me free!" The Leviathan laughs with Aliana's voice, and the Doctor silently pledges to get Castiel back, no matter the cost. "You know, your daughter's still in here. Kicking and screaming. Calling for her fathers. Which is rather funny, since one of them lead me to her—"

"Take me," Castiel interrupts, and suddenly the Doctor's crying again.

Castiel's too good of a father, he realizes. He's too loving, too selfless. Of course he's going to get himself killed. Of course he's going to insist on being the martyr. Of course.

It shrugs. "If you insist, Daddy-O." The goo pulses out of Aliana, leaves her limp and white, her hair fanning out as she hits the ground, auburn accentuating crimson stains. Castiel shakes and the Doctor rushes over to their little girl, because Castiel just sacrificed himself for her, and the Doctor'll be damned if he's going to let her see what he'll become.

She stirs when he picks her up, brow furrowing and eyelids twitching, so he hides her from Castiel's convulsing form and presses her head into his shoulder, tears staining the ripped tweed.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," he whispers, kissing her head and running from the monster through the endless TARDIS corridors, wishing a hole would open up and they'd both be engulfed in darkness, because he never, ever wants to see Cas with black veins, smirking, murdering.

"I'm sorry I failed."


	2. The Aftermath

The worst part is the aftermath.

The Leviathan stayed, for whatever reason—stayed to gloat, stayed to hurt, stayed because he's bored and the Doctor's right there in front of him, an infected wound to claw at. He lurks the halls while the Doctor holds Aliana close in his and Cas's room, sits on the bed and tells her happy stories in hopes she won't ever realize what her daddy's become.

He waits until she's fallen asleep—on Cas's side, of course—before scooping her into his arms and jogging through the TARDIS until he comes upon her room. He lays her on the bed, tucks her in, ducks down to sweep a kiss onto her forehead, and stays for a while longer because she's precious and wonderful and his last hope of retrieving Castiel.

He does it for days and days, camping out in his room, occasionally hearing the Leviathan clamber past. He doesn't know where the Leviathan goes, or if he ever takes control of the TARDIS, ever abuses her because there's no one else to torture. The Doctor hopes she'll forgive him for that.

At least the old girl gets a reprieve at night, when the Doctor finds the courage to slither back to his own bed and finds it continually warmed by a stolen body.

The Leviathan pretends nothing's wrong, for the first few hours. He shuffles up to the Doctor, a warm, sickly line against the Doctor's body, and waits. Borrows Castiel's sleeping patterns, even. It's only when the Doctor is sliding into sleep that he drops the act.

"My dear Doctor," he purrs, and the Doctor knows he's using Castiel's voice but it's starkly different from what Cas would say. "You've been hiding. I thought you liked running better?"

"Nowhere to run." The Doctor's voice is thin, tight, like his lungs have been tied together, and he doesn't want to know whether it's in fear or mourning.

"Shame. I like the chase."

A pause. "Why are you still here?"

"You've failed. Keeping your daughter from me, that is."

The knot in his lungs tightens.

"She visits me, sometimes," the Leviathan continues, "when you're asleep and she's cold. She needs her papa to warm her up. Luckily," and that abhorrent grin blossoms again, he knows it, even if his face is half-pressed into the Doctor's side, "Daddy's here."

"You _do not _touch my daughter," slips through his clenched teeth, and he knows he's snapped as his hand moves to tug on Castiel's—the Leviathan's—hair, pull him away from the Doctor, from everything he cherishes.

"Whoa, hey, calm down, Papa. I just gave her an extra blanket and a few choice words." The Leviathan winks.

"Why shouldn't I kill you right now?" The Doctor lets the storm overtake him, invites the power to run through him. He could kill him. He could.

The Leviathan's smile drops. "Because both you and the twerp need the pretty angel I've got locked away. Because I'm older than both of you combined, and the only reason _you're _not in pieces is how fun it is to ruin your lives." Slowly, surely, the smile returns. "Cassie set me free. I'm only using that freedom to better my life."

"Leave."

"No."

"Leave."

"You'll have to do better than that, cupcake."

The Doctor starts to panic, hearts pushing against his ribs, and the angry lilt in his voice makes way for desperation. "_Please. _Leave us."

The Leviathan only looks up at him, presses a kiss to his neck. "Why?"

"We won't chase you. I promise. You can do whatever you want, to whomever you want; you can—you can attack Earth, whatever. Just leave." He's just happily signed away every soul in the universe, he realizes. He almost doesn't mind.

"You know what, Doctor?" The Leviathan props his elbow up on the bed and leans in for an open-mouthed kiss, grasps at the Doctor's nape to keep him still. "You're worth more than those souls. I'm going to take my time with you."

The Leviathan is waiting for him at the breakfast table the next morning. The Doctor wishes he was surprised. He's sitting in Castiel's seat, legs crossed, trench coat strewn over the back of the chair. His tie's a little too neat, sets the whole imitation off-kilter, but he's got Castiel's smile down pat.

"Good morning, Doctor," is said in Castiel's voice, even. The Doctor says nothing, eyes stinging, entire body crying out for want of the real Cas.

"Daddy!" Aliana, happier than she's been in days, with the Doctor, sprints towards the Leviathan and tugs on his sleeve. "You and Papa are together again!"

Maybe the Doctor's hearts shatter at that, at his little girl in a monster's arms, unafraid. Maybe they split in half like rotting wood when the Leviathan beams at her like Cas used to, like he remembers Cas doing to him.

Maybe there's nothing he can do.


	3. Pretty Veins for Papa

_It's not long before Aliana starts thinking of them as a family.__ It's not her fault, really. Her other daddy is gone, but Levi's here, and Papa's here, even if he's taken to hiding from her, too. She's got the TARDIS, who gives her paints and brushes and bits of charcoal, and sometimes appears in dreams to comfort her when she's alone._

_Levi's so nice, too! He's got Daddy's smile—the nice one, the one he used when he was proud of her—and he doesn't bother her when she just wants to draw. He sits in the corner of her room and watches while she remakes the world on paper. Her walls, which used to depict the vast beauty of space, are cover__ed with scribbles of landscapes; planets she's never been to; the TARDIS both as a machine and as a woman; monsters from various nightmares. _

_Mostly, she draws her family. She uses all the auburn on her (Papa's so happy she's got red hair; she just wants to make him happy again), and most of the charcoal on Levi. He's got these veins, see, that crawl up his neck to his cheek, and they're beautiful. _

_Sometimes, when she's drawing and everything's quiet, he clambers onto the bed with her and directs her hand. He's really good, but he says he only wants to help her draw,__ instead of make his own world, so she draws him and he helps her with the veins. He makes them shine._

_He helps her draw them on Papa, too—tells her how his veins would curl around his jawbone, how they'd seem like li__ttle branches framing his eyes. When she asks why Papa can't have them now, he just shakes his head and adds more shading to the TARDIS door on the paper._

_"__But Daddy," she whines, and it slips out before she can stop it. She jerks and casts he__r gaze to the starry bed spread, sure she's done something wrong._

_But Levi's smiling._

_"__Ali, be patient. __Papa will get them soon. Even better, if you're good, when you get older I'll give you pretty veins, too, and a sister who'll never fight with you—a little sister to adore you—and you'll be best friends forever. Just be patient, and be good, okay?"_

_"__Okay!" __She nods excitedly, before standing to slap the newest picture onto the wall, covering a real picture—a photograph—of Castiel without the pretty veins. He's gone now, and she's got Levi to protect her._

_Why keep a picture of him?_

_Aliana and Levi like to play games, too. __Sometimes Papa drags himself out of his room and paces around, footsteps slow and heavy, and the Levi whispers an idea for a game in her ear, tells her not to let Papa know until the last possible second. __She giggles and shakes his hand in agreement, and he gets this weird, sad look in his eye. She ignores it._

_She waits until Papa's steps are fading before slipping out of her room, walking on her tip__py-toes and holding her arms out for balance. She doesn't see Papa much these days, and his absence carves out a hole in her chest when she stops to think about it. She thinks about it now, to conjure up the tears Levi said she'd need for this game to work. She's a good player. She'll make both her fathers proud._

_She sees a wisp of floppy hair turn a corner, and runs to catch up to him, tears streaming down her face even as she's having trouble containing a smile._

_"__Papa!"_

_He stops, freezes, and she inwardly grins__ at how well she's doing._

_"__Aliana?"_

_"__Papa!" He turns in time to catch her, instinctively cradles her in his arms. _

_"__What is it, sweetie? Why are you crying?" He wipes at her tears with his thumb before pressing her face to his shoulder; sends a soothing hand rubbing down her back; shushes her repeatedly, even if she's making no sound._

_"__Papa, when is Daddy coming home? I miss him." She doesn'__t, really. But it works—the Doctor tenses, halts his ministrations, and she cheers silently._

_"__I don't know, baby. I miss him, too."_

_"__Why aren't we saving him? He's hurt, isn't he? Why aren't we out looking for him?" She peeks up at him to gauge his reaction. He's not looking at her; he's looking at the wall, at the ceiling, anywhere but her. She pretends it __doesn't sting and presses forward._

_"__Don't you love him?"_

_Now that, __that __works. She feels the euphoria of victory settle on her shoulders as the Doctor's eyes start to water, as he shatters and his hands move from her back to grasp her shoulders, as he tries to look her in the eye and keep his voice steady._

_"__I—Aliana, I'm so—"_

_That's the moment Levi peers around the corner. He grins at her, holds out his arms in an invitation, and she rips herself from Papa's grip and runs to Levi, laughing and crying simultaneously. _

_"__I did it, Daddy! I fooled him super good!" He smiles and runs his hand through her hair, congratulating her. But he's not looking at her. _

_He's looking at Papa, at the Doctor, who's kneeling on the ground, shoulders slumped and head ducked, crying. Defeated._

_"__Good job, Ali. Good job."_


	4. Smothered

They think he's dead, but he's not. He's just been smothered. The Leviathan took him in and swallowed him, snatched the reins from him, stole his voice and his family. And he can't do anything about it.

The Leviathan only lets him watch through blurry, cracked glass, and Castiel takes in every moment of it he can, because he misses his Doctor and their little girl so dearly that perhaps he can find the strength to break through. He's a miner, stuck in a hole, chipping away at the burnt Earth scorched by the molten lava beneath him, and he just wants to get home. He yearns to escape the Leviathan's clutches and be with his family again, if only for a little while, if only until the tides turn and Castiel's being smothered again.

It works, sometimes. He claws his way through, the Leviathan fighting him every step of the way, until suddenly the Leviathan lets go. His oppressive presence vanishes for a moment, takes residence in his gut, and Castiel can finally see clearly.

Every time, all he sees is his daughter. Aliana's bright, lovely face, smiling at him, holding his hand and talking about some dream or another, and Castiel's happy for the first time in weeks. That's his little girl, right there. That's Aliana. Safe.

The breaks in battles last longer than others. One time, he was allowed to be with her for an entire hour. He sat beside her and helped her draw the TARDIS, put his hand over hers and got the cracks in the wood _just right_. Kissed her forehead in grateful celebration.

He doesn't want to ponder why the Leviathan lets it happen. He's just happy it happens at all.

And then he starts seeing the Doctor.

He misses his Doctor, of course. He misses his Doctor's smile, and his unending enthusiasm, and his loving nature. He misses how the Doctor changes the experience of living, just by being near. When the Leviathan lets him through, lets him see the Doctor for the first time, he doesn't see a brilliant madman with a box and a family and a verve for adventure.

Castiel's sitting upright in their bed the first time, with a book in his lap and a steaming mug on the nearest nightstand. He automatically searches for Aliana without paying any mind to where he is—that's never been important before. Half the time he doesn't notice what he's helping Aliana draw. This time, though, his eyes rove around the room quickly, like a man taking a breath of air before submerging himself in the sea, and he's greeted by the now-unfamiliar sight of his Doctor on his side of the bed, slouched, presumably asleep.

Castiel's reminded of the many trite romance novels the Doctor encouraged him to read when his heart flutters—stops in shock and restarts with wonder.

He looks so _old. _So worn-down. The Doctor's sleeping with his chin on his chest, hands folded and resting on his sternum, lackluster hair flopping down and concealing his eye. Castiel looks closer and sees the Doctor's mouth twisted into a worried frown, finally spots the tension in his shoulders. He's sleeping like an animal of prey residing in a tiger's den.

Castiel reaches out to touch him instinctively, aching to soothe the pain away as he's done time and time before, but the moment his fingertips make contact, the Doctor jumps. He shrivels away from Castiel and his frown deepens. Whatever peaceful façade he'd held before dissipates.

"Doctor?" He's never spoken before. He assumed that would be more control than the Leviathan was willing to lend. He's willing to bend the rules this time. He wants to fix whatever damage has been done.

"You're still imitating him, I see." The Doctor's voice is low and scratchy, grating on Castiel's ears like wayward grains of sand. It doesn't sound like his Doctor at all. It sounds broken and defeated—everything Castiel could count on the Doctor never to be.

"Are you in pain?" Of course he is. You can see that he is, in his feral but-subdued-eyes (a tamed animal, a thing of beauty whipped into submission), in the tremor of not only his voice but his hands. His hands are shaking like they're trying to reach for something, whether it be a knife to vanquish or a person to hold.

Castiel's supposed to be that person to hold.

"You can stop now. You don't need to—to use him to control me."

Suddenly, Castiel's pulled back inside himself, back into the sea, back into the murky depths the Leviathan's made his cage, but he can still hear his Doctor, clearer than crystal.

He can hear the Leviathan, too.

"My dear Doctor." The Leviathan's voice is muffled, his face pressed into the Doctor's side. A feeling of warmth and disgust runs through Castiel, but he doesn't have the strength to climb anymore. "You could always tell when I was acting."

"I'll know my Castiel when I see him."


	5. A Simple Touch

"You're wrong." The words arrive one night, float through the window to settle gently atop the Doctor's slumbering eyelids. "Cassie's still alive. I feel him kicking. Screaming. So undignified, for an angel."

This isn't the first time the Leviathan's played this game, and it won't be the last, so the Doctor simply removes the Leviathan's arm from around his waist and shuffles a little further away.

"You think I'm lying, but I'm not. I wouldn't lie about this to you."

A pause. The Leviathan ropes his arm around the Doctor again, draws him closer, and the Doctor has no choice but to acquiesce, well-inured to the torture.

"Well, I did lie when I said he was still fighting. He stopped fighting long ago. He's nice and subservient now. Just like you." They're murmured into the Doctor's ear, tenderly, almost lovingly, the last sentence punctuated with a kiss on the head.

"Actually." The Leviathan pauses. "He does fight sometimes. When I'm near Aliana. When I'm drawing with her, or when we go out as a family and she tries to hold my hand. It's almost comical. You know those movies where the prisoner smuggles himself a nail filer, and uses it to whittle his cage away? That's what your Cas does."

The Doctor barely gets out, "He's not mine," when the Leviathan slaps him on the thigh—a warning. He's not supposed to talk.

"I know what you're thinking—I let him through, right? Even I, the oldest monster in the universe, older than you, don't have the heart to separate a father from his widdle baby." He laughs, harsh and bitter, and the Doctor attempts to shrivel away. He's simply pulled back.

"I don't let anything happen. I don't let people live, I don't let you weasel your way out, and I definitely _do not _let someone gain the upper hand." Malice stains the Leviathan's tone as the fingers resting on the Doctor's hip curl into a fist, fingernails scratching the scarred skin, and the Doctor hates him, he swears he does, but he can't even bring himself to flinch anymore.

"Do you know why he peeks through? Why he's able to gain control for the smallest, most insignificant moment? Because of love. Because he _loves _his little girl too much to let me touch her. It's sickening." The Doctor can't see him, isn't facing him, but he knows the Leviathan's scowling now, even as his eyelashes land butterfly kisses on the Doctor's neck.

And then the Leviathan calms, sighs, and the Doctor tenses.

"It kind of makes me wonder why he's not fighting right now."

That, that right then, is when the Doctor truly, honestly, completely gives up.

He'd been holding onto something, before, some semblance of hope that Cas would somehow win—he'd topple the Big Bad Wolf, and then they'd be home free. They'd be back to bidding Aliana goodnight with the story of one adventure or another; to exploring the universe together, and always with a baby bag; to frightening off every black-minded monster who dared to cross their path.

Obviously, that's just not an option anymore.

"Maybe he's just given up on you, too. Maybe he's stopped caring." The Leviathan shrugs, shoulders pressing into the Doctor's back. "Maybe Aliana's all he has left in the world, because his husband's in bed with a monster," he postulates, running his fingers over and across the knobs in the Doctor's spine, making the Doctor shiver.

"The world will never know."


	6. Happy

_Why are we happy?_

It's something the Doctor asks every day, every time he catches himself veering towards contentment. He'll look to the Leviathan and his daughter, playing or drawing, and the question pops up in the forefront of his mind, a venomous wasp to be swatted.

It happens when he knows he should be scared, but he isn't. One morning he was jerked awake by the slamming of a door, a girlish titter receding down the hallway, and found himself covered in charcoal. It stained his clothes, smudged his shoes, made his hair clump together—he looked like he'd just crawled out of a chimney.

Later, when he'd gone to the loo to wash it off, he'd noticed black stains on his neck, and small, thin hand prints on his shirt. Aliana. She'd drawn him pretty veins, like Daddy had. He smiled and left them there, so she wouldn't get upset, but that everlasting question rollicked through his mind for hours later.

And the day after, when Aliana had finally exhausted the TARDIS's supply of charcoal and the Doctor was terrified she'd throw a tantrum, the Leviathan'd taken the initiative and burst into the console room, grinning, arms full of board games from across the universe.

She'd smiled so big when the Leviathan pulled an entire pack of cards out from the Doctor's ear; it was impossible not to smile back, even if his cheeks ached with atrophy.

They're almost _domestic._

Of course, the Doctor still hates him. Of course, he still dreams about Cas in the old days (Cas, swimming in the library; Cas, lying beside him, telling him about Heaven; Cas, criticizing Shakespeare's work but tolerating _Hamlet _because that was the Doctor's favorite; Cas, abandoning his brothers and sisters to be with a madman in a box for the rest of his life, which was cut unfairly short, and yet still lingers—). Of course, he still wakes up entangled in the Leviathan's limbs and maneuvers himself away because he needs to be alone for a few minutes.

However. There are times, when the three of them are together, that he looks to the Leviathan and sees Castiel. And then the illusion is shattered, by a crude joke or a maniacal grin, and the Doctor chuffs out a laugh before he can think, _That's not what Cas would say._

Now, he's lounging in the console room, Aliana sitting in his lap, telling him about her day ("First, Daddy took me to Ancient Rome, to visit the Coliseum. We even watched a match together! Papa, are humans always so violent?" "Yes, sweetie, they are.") and he's barely listening, because she's sweet and happy and smiling, and the familiar wing-shaped hole in his chest has been filled without his consent, and the TARDIS has stopped clamoring in his mind about killing the Leviathan and retrieving Cas, and he knows the Leviathan's on Earth right now, causing a massacre, and he can't even bring himself to care.

He's too happy to care.

Really, this isn't anything resembling a happy ending. He's not in a tender, loving, equal relationship, nor is he exploring the universe with a plain companion by his side, and Aliana's not learning about galactic peace but the best way to commit genocide in under an hour.

Regardless. He's a madman, in a box, with a family, and that's really all he's ever wanted. Isn't it?


End file.
